


Marco Polo

by alliesama



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I'm really not sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3286541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliesama/pseuds/alliesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean downloads a shitty app which leads to him meeting the most gorgeous freckled boy he's ever seen.</p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://itsraviolibitch.tumblr.com/post/109383285262/a-jeanmarco-au-where-jean-is-frantically-yelling">this</a> tumblr post which was inspired by <a href="http://findmarcopolo.com">this</a> app.</p><p>Dedicated to the memory of Monty Oum who inspired me and many others to be our best selves and create with abandon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marco Polo

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably remain a one-shot who knows (I don't)
> 
> visit me on [tumblr!](http://bigmoutheyebrows.tumblr.com)

"This has to be the dumbest fucking app ever," Jean mumbled as he pressed the "purchase" button on his phone screen. He'd been stuck at home browsing the App Store all morning since it was nearly impossible to walk out his front door with all the snow that had accumulated overnight. 

"I can't believe I just paid a dollar nineteen for this shit."

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Close to a week later, Jean found himself in a scramble in the middle of Starbucks as an influx of students from the local college came in to get their morning doses of caffeine; it made sense since it was the end of December and finals were rapidly approaching. He still hated having to deal with the crowds, especially when he had a job to get to. 

"Thank God I don't have to deal with that shit anymore," he thought as he grimaced at the group of girls behind him in line squabbling over study times and when the library would be open. 

"Jean?" The barista questioned as he held up a latte, pronouncing it more like the X-Men heroine and less like a certain bread-thieving Frenchman.

Of course he'd pronounce my name wrong, Jean thought. They always pronounce my fucking name wrong. 

Jean glanced at his phone screen to make sure he wasn't running late for work, grabbed his latte in a rush, and whipped directly around into a close bystander, causing both his phone and latte to go flying.

"SHIT!" Jean shouted as he regained his balance and attempted to help up the poor girl he had knocked down, all the while scanning the perimeter for wherever his phone may have gone. He knew the latte was a lost cause but his phone was probably still salvageable. 

"I'm so so so sorry," he spurted out as he pulled the girl up by her arm. "I'll get you a coffee or anything I'm really sorry"

As Jean was putting on heroics, he remembered the app he had installed a week ago; the dumbest fucking app ever. He then began shouting even more.

"Marco! Marco! Ma-aaaaaaaaa-rco!" 

He garnered a few puzzled looks from the bystanders as he listened closely for an electronic "Polo!" to respond. 

"Uh, can I help you?" a voice asked from behind Jean.

Oh shit. Jean turned around to face the most beautiful person he'd ever seen; tall, tan, freckles all over.  _Shit. Did I summon a damn Greek god?_  


"Um... Yeah, sorry, I'm just looking for my phone, I lost it somewhere. Why?"

"You've been shouting my name for the past minute. I thought I should maybe check and see if you needed me," the beautiful stranger, apparently named Marco, said with a chuckle.

_Throw me directly in the garbage._  "Your name is Marco? Oh, shi- sorry. Um, I can explain this?" 

Jean searched the stranger's face for any negative reaction but all he got was a warm smile.

"Yeah, that's me, no need to explain," Marco responded, laughing.  _Fuck_. "I can help you look if you'd like, though! You seemed like you were in a pretty big hurry so the more eyes, the better?" 

"Oh, no, you don't need to do that. I'm sure you're busy yourself and it flew pretty far so I imagine that it isn't worth saving at this point." Jean thought back to the fact that he hadn't gotten a "Polo" in response to his multiple "Marco"s so he figured it was beyond repair. "Really, thank you, though; but I'll live without a phone for the rest of the day. It's probably broken anyway. That, or covered in coffee and sugar."

"Well, I suppose so. If you're in a rush, do you maybe think I could give you my number?" 

Jean, alarmed, met eyes with the stranger who was looking quite bashful after his suggestion. 

"N-not as like, a pick-up or anything," he quickly corrected. "Just so I can hear your story about why you were shouting my name across a crowded Starbucks."

"Yeah, sure... Marco?" 

"Marco Bodt. And you are... Jean?"

Jean cleared his throat, a little embarrassed that his name had been mispronounced twice so far today. "Jean. Jean Kirschtein."

"I figured the barista had pronounced your name wrong when he said it like Jean Gray. Nice to meet you, Jean," Marco replied, practically beaming. 

Marco scribbled his number down and Jean took it before running out the door so he wouldn't be late for work, thinking about that bright smile all the way.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

After work, Jean headed to his service provider to talk about getting a new phone; thankfully, he had insurance on the one that fell victim to the floor of the coffee shop. He was able to get his phone replaced and, thank whatever god is patron over cellular devices, was able to get all of his information and data pulled down from the cloud without error or accidentally sending dick pics to his entire contact list.

Upon getting home, Jean, exhausted, crashed on his sofa and searched his pocket for Marco's number, sending him a quick text. Less than two minutes later, he was getting an incoming call from the number he just texted.  _That was fast_ , he thought.

"Hello?" Jean asked into the phone.

"Hey, Jean!" he heard from the other end, just a little bit too cheery. "How are you? Were you able to get your phone replaced?"

"Uh, yeah, I had insurance on the old one so I was able to replace it easily."

"That's great! So, are you up for telling me about why you were shouting my name in a packed coffee shop while looking for your phone?"

Jean shook his head at the memory and looking back in hindsight, realized he probably looked like the city's village idiot. I _knew that app was fucking stupid._  


"Oh, yeah, about that. This is going to sound so unbelievable but I have this phone locator app that makes your phone say 'Polo' when you say 'Marco'... And I figured it would work since my phone was nowhere to be found, but ostensibly not."

"No way," Marco replied. 

Jean made a humming noise in verification. 

"Haha, that's awesome, though. I've never heard of anything like that. I guess it would be pretty useful if your phone went missing... At least if you lost it somewhere near you and were able to hear it... Maybe it really isn't such a good idea for an app..."

_Gee, thanks_.

"...Oh, I'm rambling! I'm sorry!"

"No, ha, you're fine, it is kind of a stupid app, right? I just downloaded it on a whim that day the whole city was shut down from that freak snowstorm," Jean responded. "Today was actually the first time I've used it and you see how well that turned out."

"Well, I mean, it served one good purpose," Marco said, a hint of cockiness in his voice.

"And what purpose is that?" Jean inquired, not too sure where this boy was going with it.

"It helped you meet me, of course," Marco said with a laugh.

Jean blushed with Marco's statement and stuttered to make a reply, not quite fast enough because Marco beat him to it.

"I'm just kidding, I'm not really that full of myself." 

"For some reason, I have a hard time believing that. I mean, you have every right to be; you're-," Jean stopped himself before making a self-incriminating statement to someone he's just met.  _How can I let myself start flirting with him? You don't even_ know _him, for fuck's sake, Jean. Get your head on straight. Who cares if he's hot._  


"I'm what?" Marco inquired, his voice perking up just so slightly.

"Nothing, never mind, I'm not entirely too sure where I was going with that," Jean replied with a nervous laugh. "So, uh, anyway, I oughta get dinner started so I'll talk to you later, if that's cool?" 

"Yeah, definitely! Maybe we should meet for coffee sometime," Marco suggested, laughing. "As long as you don't throw your latte across the shop again."

"You're killin' me, Bodt. It was an accident!" Jean defended, then let his voice soften. "I think I'd really like that."

"Sounds like a date! I'll talk to you later." Marco chirped before hanging up. 

Jean let his phone fall onto the couch beside him.  _Sweet Mother Teresa on the hood of a Mercedes Benz. He said it was a date._  



End file.
